The Wee One

I’ve said before that little S has a sense of humour.  She has exquisite timing too. 

Now, we’d met friends some distance from home and timed the meal at the restaurant so that S could sleep on the journey home and go straight to bed when we arrived back.  At the end of the meal, all we needed to do was change her in her un-gender stereotyped pink Fairy Princess pyjamas and settle her in the car.  Simple.

S had already had a jolly time promenading around the restaurant.  And our fellow diners thought it was grand too.  She beamed at them.  They beamed back.  One or two seemed to notice her slightly avant-garde haircut but it didn’t put anyone off.  By the third circuit, people were calling her by name.

She knew what she was doing.  She was just working the crowd.

She knew I’ve have to undress her in Baby Changing room at the point furthest from the door.

She giggled cheekily as I changed her.  I love seeing her laugh.  I watched mesmerised.  I thought I saw a twinkle in her eye.

I felt an unusual warmth on my leg.  She giggled a little more.

With enviable precision, she’d waited for the moment her nappy was off and I was distracted. 

She was pissing over my trousers.

If she wasn’t an innocent Little One, I’d have sworn out loud.  As it was I drew blood by biting my lip so hard.  With the ruthless accuracy of a sniper, she’d hit me in the crotch.  The wet patch seeped down my leg.  It formed the perfect Pissed-My-Pants pattern.

S positively squealed with delight.

I limped out of the restaurant, one leg feeling so much heavier than the other.  My Fairy Princess presented her finest Butter-Wouldn’t-Melt-In-My-Mouth face.  Her fans smiled at her.  Then noticed me.  The smiles slipped away.  They scowled, threw a pitying look at S then turned away.

Apparently I’d just missed a hilarious joke at our table when I returned.  T and our friends, having watched me traverse the room, were all laughing hysterically.

S slept all the way home.  T dozed.  Laughing to herself occasionally at some funny dream.  I sat in my damp pants.  Steaming ever so slightly.

Comments

[Mrs RW]

Carlton, this could only happen to you. I applaud the fact that it was you who took her to be changed: dads sure have come a long way - good for you! Of course, the down side of this modern phenomenon is that instead of daddies only experiencing the carefully edited experience of their children they now are witness to (and victims of) the "dark side" of bringing up baby.

[Caryl]

It could have been much worse, no.2's! And just wait till you have the delights of potty training.

[Carlton]

I'm not so sure about the 'Dark Side', Mrs RW, but here was certainly a stain...

And you're right, Caryl, there's always something to be grateful for! Potty training. Now there's something to look forward to!

c.

[LondonGirl]

Ah. The glamorous side of parenthood eh?